


Keeping Warm

by orderlychaos



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clint to the rescue, Cuddles, Fluff, Get Together, Hypothermia, M/M, this started out as a scene for the cuddle meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 16:57:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Phil Coulson woke up cold.  The kind of cold that seemed to radiate out from his very bones.  He was vaguely aware of the way he was curled up as tight as he could, shivers uncontrollably wracking his body hard enough that they hurt.  Every spasm and jerk made this upper arm throb with pain, but Phil couldn’t uncurl his body long enough to work out why.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a mission goes wrong, Phil Coulson wakes up with a mild case of hypothermia.  Luckily, Clint Barton is there to keep him warm.</p>
<p>It's only after they're rescued by SHIELD that things get a bit awkward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping Warm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uofmdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uofmdragon/gifts).



> This started out as a scene for the cuddle meme going around tumblr and sort of... grew.
> 
> Many, many thanks to Yakkorat because without you, this would not have turned out as good as it has! Thank you for all your amazing help, hun <3

Phil Coulson woke up _cold_.  The kind of cold that seemed to radiate out from his very bones.  He was vaguely aware of the way he was curled up as tight as he could, shivers uncontrollably wracking his body hard enough that they hurt.  Every spasm and jerk made this upper arm throb with pain, but Phil couldn’t uncurl his body long enough to work out why.  His teeth chattered painfully and when he struggled to open his eyes, he found himself buried underneath what looked like a SHIELD-issued sleeping bag and several woollen blankets.  He felt groggy and disoriented and little scared that he didn’t know where he was or how he’d gotten there.  Phil was pretty sure he was supposed to know how he’d ended up wherever he had.  That seemed like an important detail.

He attempted to gather the energy to push the blankets aside, but the icy cold had sapped the strength from his muscles and the constant shivering and the aching bones in his hands made it hard for him to grab the blankets.  He couldn’t feel much below his waist and that was a terrifying kind of thought.  His heart beat faster, which wasn’t helping the dizzy feeling in his head.  There was hovering at the back of Phil’s mind, if only he could get his thoughts to cooperate, but no matter how hard he tried, it kept slipping away.

“Sir?”  Phil felt hands pushing him back down onto the mattress he’d been lying on.  “Coulson?  I need you to stay where you are, okay?”

The voice was familiar and warm and _safe_ Phil turned his head to see who it was.  The movement forced him to fight with the blanket he’d been wrapped up in for a moment and by the time he was done, his breathing was short and shallow and fingers of ice felt like they were trailing down his spine.  Phil blinked a few times when he saw movement in front of him and gradually, the scruffy face of Clint Barton came into focus.  Clint was close enough that Phil could see the different colours in his eyes and for a minute, he was distracted by the blues and greens and golds.  “Sir?” Clint said, bringing Phil’s focus back to what he was saying.  “Coulson?  Are you okay?”

Shivers continued to wrack his entire body and no matter what Phil did, he couldn’t get them to stop.  “C...cold,” Phil managed to get out between chattering teeth.

Clint frowned, his entire expression pinched.  “I’m working on that,” he said, his hands tucking the blankets back around Phil, “but we don’t have much supplies in here and it’s going to take the furnace a while to warm up properly.”

Phil nodded and shivered some more, but he wasn’t sure if Clint would be able to see the nod over the way Phil was still shaking.  Talking seemed like too much effort.  Carefully, Clint reached over and pressed his hand to Phil’s cheek which was practically the only part of Phil that was above the blankets or not covered by a beanie.  Clint’s fingers were hot, scalding against his skin and Phil pressed closer to them without thinking.

“Shit, you’re cold,” Clint said, his eyes widening.

Clint pulled his warm fingers away and the small spots of warmth against Phil’s cheek vanished, leaving behind a burning cold.   Phil shivered violently and squeezed his eyes shut until the world stopped spinning, trying to hold back the whimper that caught in his throat.  When an added weight spread across Phil’s chest, he forced his eyes open again.  Clint, now dressed in a white undershirt that clung tightly to the muscles of his chest, laying his thick, woollen sweater over the blankets.

“C..Clint,” he stuttered.  “W...what...”

“Have to get you warm,” Clint said, his mouth pulled tight.

He kept silent as Clint dragged his undershirt over his head in a swift motion and tossed it over the back of a nearby chair.  Phil wasn’t sure what Clint was trying to do, but the way Clint refused to meet his eyes made Phil reach for the blanket, to reach for Clint and tell him to _stop_ , but his hands were shaking too hard.  “C..Clint,” he tried again.

Clint reached forward, pressing lightly on the covers over Phil’s arms until Phil stopped struggling with the blankets.  “I have to get you warm,” Clint repeated, but his jaw was clenched and his eyes kept flicking to the sleeping bag wrapped around Phil and then skittering away.

Phil blinked as Clint took a step back from the bed, not sure what was happening or why Clint seemed so upset by the idea.  Clint reached for his belt, his usually nimble fingers fumbling with the buckle.  Clint was starting to shiver too and it took him three tries to get the leather through the metal.  When Clint bent to pull the boots from his feet, Phil’s stomach clenched.  “W..what are you d..doing?” he stammered.

Clint didn’t reply.  Instead, he shoved down his pants and underwear in a single push.  Phil’s eyes went wide.  Naked.  Clint was getting naked.  With Phil.  Phil blinked when he realised what it meant.   _Hypothermia_.  All the symptoms fit.  Phil glanced at Clint when the other man gave a curse as he ended up with his pants tangled around one ankle.  When Clint finally got his leg free of his pants, he stood, his hands shaking as he reached for the blankets.  “No bragging around HQ that you got me naked,” he joked, but his smile was too big, too bright, and he wouldn’t meet Phil’s eyes as he slid under the covers beside him.

The heat was staggering, even before Clint’s hand slipped under Phil’s shirt to push it up and over his head and he pressed as much of his skin against Phil’s as he could.  The searing warmth blazed across Phil’s body everywhere they touched, prickling like insidious little needles and Phil hissed in a breath at the tingling pain.  “ _Shit_ , you’re cold,” Clint muttered as he slid his hands down Phil’s arms.

Phil could feel the fire of Clint’s palms sliding down from his shoulders, his skin prickling painfully under Clint’s touch.  He shivered when Clint’s hands moved to the waist of Phil’s damp pants, immediately missing the heat.  Clint tugged off Phil’s pants and helped him kick them off, leaving them crumpled down by their feet.  Somewhere in the back of Phil’s mind was a voice that told him being naked in a bed with Clint was a bad idea, but Clint was _warm_.  So warm.  Phil curled closer to him, trying to stop the still painful shivers wracking his body.  He pressed his face into the space between Clint’s neck and shoulder and Clint tightened his arm around Phil.  Clint shivered too, once, with another muttered curse, before he carefully slid his leg between Phil’s.  Phil gasped softly at the sudden heat at his groin and pressed closer still to Clint.

“I’ve got you,” Clint murmured, quiet enough that Phil wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear it.

The flood of warmth against his was amazing, but at the same time, Phil was painfully aware of how cold his back still was, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it.  Phil settled for tightening his own grip on Clint and concentrating on the burning heat against his front.  The numb of his skin was slowly giving way to viciously sharp pins and needles  as he warmed.  His eyelids were growing heavy, as if weighed down by sand and Phil struggled to keep them open.

“I need you to stay awake, Coulson,” Clint said in his ear and his warm lips brushed Phil’s skin as his spoke.  “At least until we get your temperature up.”

“Ph..Phil,” Phil muttered against the skin of Clint’s neck.

“What?” Clint replied, sounding confused.

Phil smiled softly, still refusing to lift his head.  “It...it’s my n..name,” he whispered, exhaustion pulling at him.

“Okay, Phil,” Clint said quietly, his voice soft and almost fond.  “I still need you to stay awake, though, okay?”

Phil hummed in reply, not sure he could follow Clint’s instruction.

“Come on, Phil,” Clint cajoled.  “Talk to me.  You’ve always got something to say.”

“I’m... t..tired,” Phil stuttered.

“I know you are, Phil,” Clint said, his warm, warm hands starting to slide up and down Phil’s back, “but I really need you to stay awake.   _Please_ , Phil.  Just a little longer.”

It was the please that did it.  Phil struggled to blink open his eyes.  His head was weighed down with the same sand as his eyelids, but eventually he raised his head enough to blink up at Clint.  Clint flashed him another one of those bright, false smiles.  “So you are still awake, huh?” he said.

Phil narrowed his eyes, trying to get his sluggish brain to cooperate.  Clint Barton didn’t usually beg his handler to stay awake with a tremor in his voice and Phil’s case of hypothermia wasn’t that severe.  He could feel the effects of the freezing cold still sending shivers shuddering through him and Phil’s thoughts still felt sluggish and confused, but as long as he stayed where he was, he’d probably be fine.  He didn’t know why Clint was so worried.  It wasn’t the first time this had happened to either of them and with the cold slowing down his thoughts so much, Phil couldn’t work out what was so different about this time.  Clint still wouldn’t meet his eyes either and Phil tried to force his brain to focus.

“You.. okay?” he asked.

Clint gave a strained chuckle.  “I’m fine, Phil,” he said.  “You’re the one that collapsed in the snow.”

“I... was... drugged,” Phil grumbled.

“Yeah, by the big bad HYDRA goon,” Clint replied with a smirk.  “You still haven’t explained how he got the drop on the infamous Agent Coulson, though.”

Phil opened his mouth to reply and then shut it again.  “You...you’re distracting... me,” he said instead.

Clint’s eyes darted away again.  For a moment, Phil frowned, before he dropped his head back down to press his cold nose into the side of Clint’s neck.  He smiled at Clint’s yelp.  “What’s... wrong, Clint?” Phil asked quietly.

When Clint was silent for a moment, Phil struggled to raise his head again, only to find Clint watching him without the hint of a smile, his eyes blue and almost pained.  “Ask me again when you’re not almost frozen, okay?” he said.

Phil wanted to protest, but Clint had a point.  He’d be much better at trying to figure out what was bothering Clint when his thoughts weren’t so sluggish with cold, like they were as frozen as the rest of him.  “You... wanted me.. to talk,” he muttered, dropping his head back down into that perfect space between Clint’s shoulder and neck.  He pressed his nose against Clint’s skin, gaining another yelp and smiled when he felt Clint laugh.

“I did want you to talk,” Clint agreed.  “I just forgot that even with hypothermia, nothing slides past Agent Coulson.”

“Nope,” Phil said, his eyes sliding shut.  “Sleepy.”

“Phil...” Clint began.

Phil groaned, pressing his face into Clint’s shoulder.  He was finally beginning to get warm and the painful shivers had stopped and all Phil really wanted to do was sleep, wrapped up in the nest of blankets Clint had made with his nose pressed to the scent of Clint’s skin.

“Okay,” Clint whispered.  “You don’t look so pale anymore, so I guess it’s okay.  Shit, Phil.  I’m not exactly a doctor here.  Just... don’t fall asleep and die on me, okay?”

“Promise,” Phil muttered against Clint’s throat before sleep rose up and claimed him.

*

By the time SHIELD medical cleared Phil to go home, it had been four days and Clint was _definitely_ ignoring him.

The fallout from the mission to Alaska had been fairly minor.  Clint had dealt with all of the HYDRA goons chasing them after they’d taken Phil down with an experimental tranquiliser and thanks to that and a handily placed SHIELD-owned cabin, all Phil suffered from was a mild case of hypothermia, a swollen upper arm near the injection site and a bruised ego.  The last thing Phil remembered had been waking up warm and safe and more content than he had been in a very long time, and then being pulled away by medics in SHIELD uniforms.  They’d pumped him full of warm saline and a million other things and by the time Phil had recovered enough to be coherent, Clint had vanished.  No doubt in an attempt to avoid Phil, not that Phil could blame him.

Phil was still a little fuzzy about what he’d said while suffering the effects of his brush with hypothermia and he couldn’t guarantee he hadn’t said something that would make Clint uncomfortable.  Lord knew that he hadn’t objected all that hard to being naked in a bed with Clint, even if he hadn’t been in the right state of mind to truly appreciate that.  Still exhausted, Phil had left Clint alone and instead dragged himself home to his cold and empty apartment.  Hopefully with enough time and space, Clint wouldn’t hold whatever Phil had said or done against him.

Walking into his lounge room, Phil was reaching for the light switch when he realised there was a shadow on his couch.  His heart lurched and he cursed himself for not having his gun on him.  Reaching for the heaviest thing he could see, Phil picked up the large flashlight he kept on the bookshelf by the door and flipped on the light.  Then he blinked.  “Clint?” he said.

Clint sat up slowly from where he’d been sprawled out on the couch.  His hair was mussed, his usual combat boots kicked off and lying on the floor beside him and there were faint indentations from one of the couch cushions on Clint’s cheek.  Squinting a little in the sudden light, Clint looked up at Phil with a small smile.  “Hey, Phil,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

Phil put down the flashlight and took a few hesitant steps forward.  He was immediately aware of the ratty sweats he’d pulled on just before being discharged by medical and he clenched his left hand in the softly worn material.  Clint had changed since Phil had last seen him too and Phil took a moment to let his gaze linger on the gap between his grey t-shirt and jeans where the fabric had been pushed up while he was sleeping.  The blue blanket that Phil usually kept across the back of his couch was still tangled about Clint’s knees.

As the silence drew on, Phil grasped for something to say.  “How’d you get in?” he asked.

Clint smirked faintly.  “You gave me a key, remember?” he replied.

Phil did remember.  He just never thought Clint would actually use it.  “Right,” he said.  “Of course.”  He forced a smile, at a loss of what to do now that he’d discovered Clint on his couch.

“Have you eaten yet?” Clint asked brightly, getting to his feet.  “I could grab some Chinese or something?”

“No, I...” Phil began, his stomach in knots and making him distinctly un-hungry.  “Clint,’’ he said, because he wasn’t sure he could take his uncertainty anymore.  His emotions had been up and down for four days.  “Why are you here?”

Clint wouldn’t meet his eyes.  Phil hated putting him on the spot, but he needed to know.  “I’m sorry,” Clint said softly.  “I can leave?”

“No!” Phil said immediately.  “When I said you were welcome to come here, I meant it.  I just... I thought you were avoiding me.”

“What?” Clint said, his eyes snapping up to Phil’s.  “Why would I be avoiding you?”

Phil shrugged awkwardly.  “I assumed I must have done or said something that made you uncomfortable while we were in Alaska,” he said.  “You never came to visit me in medical.”

Clint ran his hand through his hair again.  “You’re right,” he said quietly.  “I didn’t.”

Feeling his stomach plummet to somewhere near his toes, Phil nodded.  Clearly he _had_ done something in Alaska.  His only hope now was that he and Clint could get passed it, because he might have been in love with his asset, but he wasn’t ready to lose Clint’s friendship over that.

“It’s just not for the reason you think.”

Phil frowned.  “So I didn’t say or do anything that made you uncomfortable?” he said.

Clint laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound.  “Oh, you made me plenty _uncomfortable_ ,” he muttered.  “That whole _night_ was uncomfortable.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Phil inwardly cursed himself.  “Clint, I’m...” he began.

“Don’t you dare apologise!” Clint snapped and Phil blinked open his eyes to stare into Clint’s blazing ones.  “You have _nothing_ to apologise for.”

Now Phil was bewildered.  “I’m not sure I follow what’s going on here,” he said.

Clint huffed and grabbed the blanket off the couch, as if to do something with his hands.  “Can we maybe sit down to talk about this?” he suggested.

“Okay,” Phil agreed, moving around to sit on the couch.

As Phil sat down, he shivered slightly in a sudden cool draft, still not back up to full strength.  Clint noticed because he _always_ noticed and offered him the blanket he was still holding.  With the blanket it was a little warmer and Phil figured it would have to do until he could boil himself in a steaming hot shower like he’d been wanting to for days.  Clint sat down next to him, leaving as much space between them as the couch would allow and Phil tried to ignore the sudden space between them.

“So,” Phil said after another moment of silence.  “Talking?”

Clint sighed and flopped back against the couch to stare up at the ceiling.  “I’m just going to say this, okay?  Just... get it out in the open and all that,” he said.  “And it’s nothing you did, okay?  Well, it kinda is, but its not like it was anything you could change and even if you could I wouldn’t want you to...”

Phil reached over to rest a hand on Clint’s bare forearm and he felt the muscles clench underneath his palm.  “Clint, what is it?” he asked quietly.

“I, um...” Clint began, turning his gaze to Phil.  His eyes were bright and blue and there was something fragile in his expression that Phil hadn’t seen for a long time.  “Phil, I’m in love with you,” he said roughly.

Phil blinked.

Clint huffed out an unhappy laugh and turned away again.  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he muttered.

“You want to know why I avoided you in medical, Ph... Coulson?” he asked, running a hand over his face and the use of Phil’s surname hit him like a punch to the gut.  “I’d just spent six hours huddling with you under a sleeping bag _naked_ and even though the situation _sucked_ and I was terrified you were going to die on me, it was kind of nice too.  Because I figured that was the closest I was going to get to what I wanted and I wasn’t sure I could take it if you gave me that politely bland smile and thanked me for the help.”

Phil tightened his grip on Clint’s forearm.  He was still leaning over a little awkwardly and the cold that he couldn’t seem to shift was threatening to overtake him again, but none of that mattered compared to shifting that pained and broken look from Clint’s face.  Now that the initial shock of Clint’s confession had broken, Phil could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, but it was as if that wasn’t important.  All the words he wanted to say were caught up in his throat and Phil was terrified of what would happen if he couldn’t say them out loud.

“ _Clint_ ,” he said.  Then he hesitated, realising something.  Clint had come to Phil’s apartment.  Had let himself _inside_ without an expression invitation, which he’d never done before.

Waiting until Clint was looking at him, Phil tried to use his expression to impart just how serious he was about what he was about to say.  “You are and always have been...” he began.

“You don’t need to soften the blow, Coulson,” Clint said softly.

“I’m not trying to soften anything,” Phil snapped.  “Do you want to know what I thought when I woke up with you in that bed?  I thought I was dreaming, because there was no way my life would ever turn out that good.”

For a moment, Clint gaped at him.  “What... you... _really_?”

“Yes,” Phil said.  “I just never imagined that you...”

“What?” Clint blurted.  “Why the hell wouldn’t I?”

Phil opened his mouth to answer, but Clint cut him off.  “You’re _amazing_ , Phil.  Seriously.  You’re calm and smart and _gorgeous_... and I’ve seen you take out terrorists twice as big as you in under thirty seconds,” he said, his voice low and fierce.  “Why the hell wouldn’t I be in love with you?”

Blinking, Phil stared helplessly at Clint for a moment.  “You think I’m gorgeous?” he asked; it hadn’t been what he intended to say, but they were definitely the words that came out of his mouth.

“Yes, Phil,” Clint said, leaning in and Phil was lost in the blue eyes staring into his.  “I really do.  Have you really never noticed me staring at you all the time in briefings?”

“I...” Phil attempted to gather his scattered thoughts, because he definitely had a few things he should be saying.  “I’ve probably never noticed because I’m too busy trying not to get distracted by your arms or your fingers,” he said.  “I swear your wear those tight t-shirt just to spite me.”

Laughter lit Clint’s eyes as he smiled and the expression was infinitely endearing.  “Are you telling me that the great Agent Coulson is actually capable of being distracted in the middle of a briefing?” he said.

“By you?  Yes,” Phil replied.  “I completely forgot the security assessment level we’d assigned to Mali last week because you were showing Natasha something that involved a lot of flexing.”

Clint’s eyes went wide again.  “Seriously?”

Gathering up his courage, Phil nodded.  “Seriously,” he said.  “I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Clint.  There’s not a lot about you that I don’t find attractive.”

He could feel the blush stealing across his cheeks at the admission, but the words were true and Phil would never regret them.  Not when they made Clint’s face light up and a soft, sweet and almost shy smile cross his face.  “You’ve been in love with me for a long time, huh?” he said.

“Yes,” Phil said.  “Admitting to exactly how long will probably be embarrassing.”

Clint grinned.  “Natasha was totally right about us,” he said.

“Probably,” Phil agreed.  “Although I’m never telling her that.”

Laughing, Clint nodded.  “She’ll know anyway,” he said.

“No doubt,” Phil agreed.

They settled into silence after that.  Phil wasn’t sure what to do.  Dating etiquette and when to give someone a goodnight kiss he was usually okay with, but Phil had no idea what to do after confessing his feelings to Clint before they’d even kissed.  It didn’t help that the underlying exhaustion and unshakable feeling of cold was creeping up on him again.  Phil struggled to keep his eyes open.

“Hey,” Clint said gently.  “Do you want me to go?”

“No,” Phil said, blinking to clear his head.  “Stay, please.  I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Clint chided gently.

“I still want you to stay,” Phil admitted quietly.

“I can work with that,” Clint said with another of those sweet smiles.

Reaching out, he curled a hand around the blanket Phil had tucked around his shoulders and yanked.  Phil sprawled sideways on the couch, landing awkwardly half across Clint’s lap.  Clint grinned down at him, before he somehow managed to shift them so they were lying down on the couch.  Phil was caught between Clint underneath him and the back of the couch, Clint’s arms wrapped around him and the blanket covering them both.  Phil gave a happy sigh and sank into the warmth, the lingering cold finally starting to fade.

“Better?” Clint asked.

Phil hummed in agreement and pressed closer to the heat Clint offered.  He knew the lasting sense of being cold was mostly in his head, but Phil still couldn’t helped the urge to himself and Clint in a pile of the thickest blankets he could find and move for days.  And then he was going to take Clint out to dinner at their favourite little Italian place for an official date.

“Sleep, Phil,” Clint whispered in his ear.  “You can finish whatever you’re plotting when you wake up.  I’ll still be here.  You told me you loved me.  I’m not going anywhere now.”

Phil smiled, his eyes slipping shut.  He curled his arm tighter around Clint’s shoulders.  “Good,” he replied.

Fin.


End file.
